


A Little Help

by Comicsohwhyohwhy



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: 890fifth, Angst, But kinda a happy ending, Christmas, M/M, New Year's Eve, or at least a hopeful one, tw suicidal intent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/pseuds/Comicsohwhyohwhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s Christmas. The last Christmas he is ever going to see.</i>
</p><p>Tony is as lost as he’s ever been in the snowy streets of New York. If only he knew that someone is still out there, looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round Seven of [890fifth](http://890fifth.tumblr.com/post/105736268235/the-quotes-from-about-a-boy-by-nick-hornby-round)! I am sorry.
> 
> Beta-thanks to [Iloome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iloome/pseuds/iloome), who did a lot of screaming at me because it was even more horrible originally.
> 
> Takes up elements from the old Iron Man-comics, mostly _Iron Man_ 182, May 1984

The cook is handing him a plate of stew, and Tony takes it with trembling hands.

He lost Gretl. After everything, he fucked up this one thing, this one thing he thought he could make right. He doesn’t love Gretl, he knows that (he lost the person he loves, too, and he doesn't think about him), but they found solace in the warmth of each other’s bodies, and she needs him. And as long as there is someone left on this earth who needs him, there’s a reason to keep trying.

And now he lost her, like he lost everything else.

The cook is drawling something about a blizzard, but Tony isn’t really paying attention. In his mind, he sees Gretl hurry through the streets of the city in her threadbare clothes, upset at his failure to keep his word. He pulls his coat tightly about him and leaves the shelter.

He doesn’t know how long he spends going from place to place, asking people whether they have seen a pregnant woman, calling out her name. He does, however, notice how his voice gets increasingly lost in the wind. He stops being able to see clearly, and for one second he wonders whether this is him losing his final ties to the world. But then he comprehends that it is the blizzard everyone was talking about. It doesn’t take long until he is wrapped up in fog.

He keeps on calling, but it is as if instead of leaving his body, his voice is bending backwards, slapping him into his own face. It makes no difference. He won’t find her.

But he will keep on trying. He has fucked up everything else. This is what he has left. He had so many chances, and he squandered each and every one of them. When Steve…

He hastens through the depopulated streets, walking on and on, and the wind takes bits of his mind with it, slowly emptying it. Gretl doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe she never really did matter, if he is being honest with himself. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve.

All by himself, he was never able to achieve anything.

His thoughts become more scattered.

There’s a bottle in his pocket, and he is desperate for that merciful haziness he knows awaits him at the bottom of it. But when he sets it to his mouth, there’s only a drop of liquid touching his lips. It burns on them because of how chapped they are and it’s not enough. He needs more.

The shop assistant wants to give him advice, like they all do, going on about the damn blizzard. The blizzard doesn’t matter. Tony leaves his coat in the shop, and he doesn’t even feel the cold on his skin when he wanders on.

There’s something red glowing not too far away from him, and when he squints he sees it’s a hotel. Maybe…

_He’s on a bed, lost to the feeling of vagueness he has learnt to cherish so much over the last few months. The door opens, and he flinches when he sees Steve._

_Steve starts yelling at him. Something about him wrecking his life. Asking why he is doing it._

_Tony can’t answer. He doesn’t even know. He thinks he had something, with Steve, with the Avengers, maybe they could have made it work. But he ran away. And now all he knows is that there’s a hole inside of him that keeps sucking and he needs to keep pouring something into it, or he will be swallowed by it, in the end, hair and bones and mind._

_What is left of his mind, that is._

_Suddenly Steve is close, too close, and the bottle flies out of his hands. It’s the thing that has been anchoring him, and he feels as if he might fall over now that it is gone, fall off the bed he is reclining on. He needs it back._

_Tony crawls on the floor. The man he was would never have done that, he knows that, but it doesn’t matter now. Steve is towering above him, his blue eyes hard and clear._

_Then he leaves, and Tony knows this was his last chance. Captain America won’t help him anymore. He has lost faith in him. Finally Steve has seen him as the failure he really is._

_Well, he had it coming. Of course this wasn’t going to last._

_He takes another sip._

He needs another sip. Mercifully, a shop is close by.

“You gonna party tonight, huh? What’cha gonna celebrate?”

Tony thinks for a moment. It’s Christmas. The last Christmas he is ever going to see.

He becomes aware of the fact that he has made up his mind. It’s time to go. He leaves the shop and the keeper gives him one last puzzled look, but doesn’t try to hold him back.

A feeling of relief washes through him. Soon, all of this will be over. Why has he even waited this long?

_There’s a bright glow in Steve’s eyes as he tackles him to the mat. Tony gasps, and then he can’t move anymore, because Steve has incapacitated him thoroughly._

_Steve is towering above him, looking triumphant, and Tony is a little annoyed at that. Of course Captain America can tackle Tony Stark, no reason to be that proud. He wriggles a bit, trying to get out of Steve’s grasp, but he doesn’t stand a chance._

_“You are giving up too easily. Try again.”_

_Tony clenches his jaw. Too easily? He struggles again, more violently this time, but Steve just grins down at him. 240 pounds of supersoldier are sitting on his chest and not budging and Tony is getting increasingly frustrated._

_“Try working with leverage. Take my right arm and use the rotation to smash your fist into my jaw.”_

_Tony hesitates for a moment. He doesn’t want to hit Steve in the face. “Are you sure?”_

_“Am I supposed to train or to coddle you?”_

_Tony nods, then does as he was told. And it works. He gets just enough leeway to free himself from Steve’s iron grip and crawl away._

_Steve, who immediately jumped to his feet with the elegance of a cat, holds out his hand and smiles at him. “See, you can do it, if you really want to.”_

_Tony takes his hand and gets up. Steve’s handshake is warm and strong, yet gentle, always gentle, even during their sparring sessions. He smiles back. “Well, maybe all I need at times is a little help, Cap.”_

He sits pressed against a wall and the snow is swirling around him. He looks down into the bottle, there’s only a little liquid left there, sloshing about – he didn’t even realise how much he had already drunk.

_Crawl out of the bottle, Stark._

It strikes him that how you spend Christmas is a message to the world about where you are in life, some indication of how deep of a hole you managed to burrow for yourself. He knows that he isn’t going to crawl out of this one.

He closes his eyes. The darkness is pressing onto his eyelids. Everything is turning, even though he can’t see anymore. He’s sitting in the center of a whirlwind. Soon, he will be swept away.

He is so cold. He can’t move anymore. He can’t think anymore. Everything blurs.

He remembers a woman, a woman who trusted him to make things right, and he disappointed her. In the end, he couldn’t help her.

He remembers a blond man with a twinkle in his eyes. A man who held out his hand to help him up when he had fallen. Until he had fallen so hard that even that man had lost all faith in him.

Tony feels his eyelids congeal. Maybe he has been crying, he isn’t sure. It won’t be long now.

But suddenly, he hears something. Voices, almost imperceptible in the howling of the wind. And there’s a light, getting closer.

With a tremendous effort, he tries to keep his eyes open. There’s a figure standing before him, broad shoulders, a kind face framed by blond hair. Could it…

But no, the glow fades, and the figure disappears. It was nothing, just an illusion whipped up by his brain because he can’t bear the truth. He’s all alone.

It’s the last thing that drifts to the surface of his mind.

***

Steve is looking at Tony in bed, pale and unmoving and hooked up to machines, hardly recognisable as the man Steve fought beside for years.

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. He takes Tony’s hand. It is cold and waxen.

It is Christmas, and he is in a hospital, staring at Tony, who might never wake up again.

_When he sees the form of the man, hunched against a wall and almost buried in snow, he first thinks it’s just another wino he doesn’t care about. But there’s something familiar about the black hair and the shape of the head, and when he gets closer, the light of his torch falls on Tony._

_He stops, frozen in space. What if he’s too late? He can’t be too late._

_After what feels like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, he rushes towards Tony. Tony doesn’t react when Steve holds him close and checks his pulse. It’s there, but only just._

_Steve feels his heart beating fast in both joy and despair. He has found Tony. Maybe he can make things right, after all. But maybe Tony is going to die before he can reach a hospital._

_Carefully, he gets up, wrapping Tony in his arms. Tony exhales on a sigh. His breath lingers in the air._

He knows he made a huge mistake when he left Tony in that room, all by himself. He _yelled_ at him, for God’s sake. Told him he was weak while he was crawling before him on the floor. How could he have done that? He should have held out his hand, helped Tony up, taken him with him, regardless of the personal issues he might have with his drinking. Steve feels tears burning behind his eyelids.

But he came back. In the end, he came back, and now all he can do is hope for Tony to wake up.

Steve almost doesn’t feel himself drift off, but then Tony’s hand in his twitches, and he startles awake. He looks at Tony, but nothing has changed. Maybe he just imagined it, then. He breathes out slowly and can’t fight the sense of disappointment threatening to overtake him.

But then Tony’s hand moves again, if only the tiniest bit. Steve stares at Tony’s face, and he sees his lashes flutter. He holds his breath.

Tony’s eyes open. They are completely unfocused, but he can tell that Tony is trying to scan the room. Finally, his eyes settle on him.

Steve can’t move.

Tony opens his mouth, and his voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Steve…” It sounds as if he can’t believe what he sees.

Steve wraps him in his arms, and never wants to let him go.

***

It is New Year’s, and Tony has just been discharged. He is staying with Rhodey.

Rhodey let Steve in, and now Steve is standing in the open door to Tony’s room and can’t tear his eyes off him. Tony hasn’t yet noticed he’s there. He is folding up laundry, moving with care, and when he half-turns, Steve sees his profile. Tony still looks pale, his black hair a stark contrast to his face, but there’s a defiant note to his jaw. He looks like a man ready to face the fight before him.

Before Steve can get himself to disrupt the moment, Tony seems to notice he is being watched and turns around. He smiles. “Steve.”

Steve smiles back and there’s a lump in his throat. There is something he wants to give Tony, a sort of belated Christmas present. A celebration of the fact that Tony is still alive. But somehow, he finds it hard to find the right words to accompany the gesture.

Tony is waiting for him to say something and carding a hand through his hair. Despite everything he’s been through, he looks gorgeous in the night blue shirt he’s wearing. “What? What made you lose your voice, Steve?”

Steve holds out his hand with the present in it. Maybe he doesn’t need to say much at all. Tony gives him another smile, and it’s almost insecure. Then he takes and unwraps it.

When he holds the water bottle in his hands, he doesn’t say anything for a while, eyes cast down. Steve had it engraved; it says “just a little help”. He licks his lips nervously and wonders what Tony is thinking. What if he hates it, what if it’s a reminder of something bad that he doesn’t need right now? But when Tony looks up at him, there’s light in his eyes.

He takes a step closer, then stops, apparently unsure of what to do. But when Steve wraps him in his arms, he relaxes into his body almost immediately. They stay like that for a long time.


End file.
